


Long Distance

by nehemiah



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Implied Smut, Phone Calls & Telephones, those two idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2389376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nehemiah/pseuds/nehemiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For JB Appreciation Week. Day 5, One AU.</p><p>‘Jaime and Brienne both learn so much in AFFC. If only they could talk on the phone, to compare notes and catch up.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Distance

‘Uh, hello? I’d like to make an external call. Thanks. What do I do now? Okay, I’m dialling the number. Thank you.’

She’s been fussing over little things since they checked in, but now it’s late, and there’s nothing to do but lie on the bed with its cheap synthetic duvet cover, and make the phonecall she’s been putting off for so long.

The line rings for what seems like an age. For an irrational moment she fears that she might have made a mistake in copying down the number… but that can’t be true, she’s used it once before, after all. Finally, the ringing stops, and there’s an explosion of sound in her earpiece.

‘-ello?’ His voice comes through a sea of crackle and interference.

‘Jaime? It’s me. Can you hear me?’

‘Wait a second,’ he says, raising his voice above the noise. She hears a few indistinct sounds, then Jaime speaks again, louder and clearer. ‘Sorry. I just climbed in the car. It’s blowing a blizzard out here. Brienne. Where are you?’

She plucks the room service menu from the bedside stand. ‘The Crossroads Inn, established 1978,’ she reads. ‘ **Sleep. Dine. Hang Out**.’ The logo is a hammer and anvil, and the words are spelled out in some carefully chosen vintage typeface.

‘Sounds terrible,’ laughs Jaime. She can’t help but smile at the sound.

‘It’s not great,’ she admits. ‘Badly overpriced, for one thing.’ She has a strange, almost paranoid thought that the hotel desk staff might be listening in on the line. ‘But, uh. Apparently it’s under new ownership. I’m sure they’ll be _fine_ once they find their feet. How are you getting on?’

‘I think we’re almost done here,’ he says. ‘The uncle’s still a stubborn old cunt, but Edmure saw sense. We’re working on a final settlement now.’

‘No bloodshed?’

‘No,’ he laughs again. ‘Though the court ushers had to hold Edmure back a couple of times. He’s not a happy bunny. All the same… I haven’t broken my word, Brienne. I wouldn’t. A peaceful, lawful, resolution. I’ve a few last few things to wrap up and I can go back home.’

‘That’s good news,’ she says, but can’t push any enthusiasm into her tone. _Home_ , she thinks, means Cersei. That was something they’d never really resolved.

‘What about you, then? It’s been weeks.’

It’s true. It’s over a fortnight since she phoned from Duskendale. They’d had a halting conversation – he’d been all mixed up, just back from his Dad’s funeral. They’d tried phone sex for the first time. She’d been in the bath, she remembers with a blush, and… well, it was a good thing Podrick hadn’t been with her that day.

She wants to tell him something reassuring, but she’s frustrated by how things are going, and can’t bring herself to lie. ‘I don’t know if I’m getting anywhere,’ she says frankly. ‘I’ve been to Maidenpool, twice, and out to Crackclaw… it feels like one stinking wild goose chase after another. You know?’

‘Where will you go next?’ Jaime gets straight to the point.

‘I don’t know… I need to talk it over with Podrick. Maybe to the Arryn house… they might tell me something, if I can convince them that I’m doing this for Mrs Stark. Uh, look. There’s something else you should know. Hyle’s turned up.’

‘That prick?’ His scorn is all too obvious. ‘What did he want?’

‘He’s… he’s actually been quite helpful. More than I thought. He knows things, knows people around here. He got me out of a difficult situation with the local police.’

‘He wants something, Brienne. Trying to worm his way into your good books. Or into your pants. Be careful.’

‘Since - since you mention it,’ says Brienne, cringing in anticipation, ‘he did… kind of… propose to me.’

‘ _The fuck_?’ explodes Jaime. ‘ _Proposed_? He came to you on bended knee with a box of chocolates and a _fucking_ violinist after, after what he-‘

‘It wasn’t like that at all.’ She takes out her hairband and shakes her straggly blonde hair free. ‘He was very _logical_ about it. Said that he was sorry for what happened back then, wasn’t I at least _curious_ to find out how good he is in bed, and… that I probably wouldn’t be able to do better.’

The other end of the line is silent for a long time. ‘Brienne, _please_ don’t tell me you actually thought about it.’

‘Of course not, Jaime,’ she says quietly. ‘I told him I’d castrate him if he laid a finger on me again. I’m guessing from experience that he’ll be in the bar all night, so… we can slip away while he’s sleeping it off tomorrow morning.’

She hears Jaime sigh, then laugh. ‘That’s my girl,’ he crackles. _He’s relieved_ , she thinks with a jolt. Then she decides she might as well go for broke.

‘So. Last week… we were on the beach, near Dyreden. Waiting to meet some guy who claimed to have a tip-off. It’s the bleakest stretch of shingle you’ve ever seen, Jaime, the kind of place people dump bodies in detective dramas. It was pissing down with rain, and… I dozed off a couple of times and I, I had that nightmare again. I just… all I could think about was that I wanted you there. With me.’

She heard a scratching on the other end of the line. _His beard_ , she thought. _I wonder how much it’s grown?_ ‘You know I’d be with you if I could, Brienne.’

‘Oh no!’ she said, putting a hand to her forehead. ‘I didn’t mean – I didn’t mean to throw you a guilt trip, Jaime! I understand,’ she stammered, ‘I know you’re doing what you have to do. I’m not expecting you to come riding in on a white charger to save me. I just wanted you to know... that I think of you. I miss you.’

He doesn’t speak for a while, but she can hear the storm in the background, so she knows the line isn’t dead. For a moment she fears she might have said too much.

‘I saw Daven last night,’ he puts in suddenly.

‘Your cousin?’ Brienne is thrown by the change of subject. She can’t remember whether Daven is one of Jaime’s Good Lannisters, or his Bad Lannisters. ‘How is he?’

‘He’s grown a ridiculous hipster beard, but apart from that, he’s fine. We went out drinking, had a few laughs.’

‘That’s good, Jaime,’ she says earnestly. ‘You need to unwind more.’

‘Take your own advice,’ he laughs. ‘I’ve never met anyone as _wound_ as you. But, Daven. He’s a romantic drunk, you know. By half eleven he was slumped on the table mumbling in rapture over his new girlfriend and her freckles. It, ah, made me think of you. Yours.’

‘Oh,’ said Brienne. She looks across the room into the mirror. She's blushing, but not the too-familiar red flood of embarrassment. Only her cheeks have coloured, and they've taken on a gentle pinkish tinge.

‘Are you looking in a mirror?’ he asks, and Brienne jumps.

‘Yes!’ Her voice squeaks a little, and she feels silly. ‘I mean… yes. How did you know?’

‘You’re in a cheap hotel room,’ he says, and she can almost hear his grin on the other end. ‘What else is there to look at?’ There was the scratching noise again. ‘I wish I could see what you can. What are you wearing?’

‘Don’t start that again,’ she mumbles.

There’s more laughter. ‘I’m sat in a car in a public square outside a County Court. You’re right, probably not the best idea.’

‘It’s just… a little weird, Jaime. We’ve never even… _been together_ … in real life. And Podrick and Hyle are in the next room.’ She notices with irritation that she’s twisted the phone wire around her finger, like some lovelorn schoolgirl.

‘So why don’t we give them a show? Put me on speakerphone. Let Hunt hear what he’s missing, and give the boy an education.’ He laughs until he’s gasping, and Brienne can’t stop herself joining in.

There’s a warmer silence between them now.

‘What time is it there?’

‘Almost ten.’

‘Are you going to bed after this?’

‘Yeah.’ Even as she says it, the tiredness hits her. She stifles a yawn.

‘You’re still having the dreams, though.’ The concern in his words makes her heart flutter. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone, but…

‘The truth is… I did speak to someone. About that. After we drove past Maidenpool, I saw a place, like… a retreat. I thought I’d pull over, just to take a look. And… they gave me the tour. _Quiet Isle Meditation_.’

‘Let me guess,’ grunts Jaime. ‘Some hippy in a kaftan pushing group hugs and primal screams.’

‘No, actually,’ she said. She’d been surprised. ‘The guy was built like a brick sh- _outhouse_. Apparently he was a boxer, before. He was quite good. I, I, was thinking of going back. When all this is over.’ She lies down, stretching out, her legs too long for the bed, as always. ‘How’s the prosthetic working out?’

‘Useless,’ he says with venom. ‘No, that’s not quite true. We established last night that it could hold a shot glass quite adequately.’

She feels a swell of pity, but knows that wouldn’t be the right button to press with Jaime. She adopts a stern tone instead. ‘Practice, then. Wallowing in drink won’t help.’

‘Whatever you say, doctor,’ he says with a pained sigh.

She hesitates. ‘Where are you staying tonight?’

‘Daven’s place. We’re getting a takeaway. Amusingly enough, I’m going to attempt to use chopsticks.’ He waits a moment. ‘If I know anything about low quality hotels, this call will be costing you a fortune.’

‘I don’t mind,’ she says.

Another silence.

‘W-‘she begins, but Jaime starts talking at the same time.

‘Go on,’ she says.

‘No, it was nothing, really. What were you going to say?’

‘Just… when do you think you’ll be back in the city?’

‘A few days. Maybe longer. The weather’s playing havoc with transport. The main road’s been diverted.’ There was a flapping sound, and she pictured him struggling with a folding map. ‘I’ll have to go through some place called Pennytree.’

‘Be careful,’ she says. ‘On the roads. Driving.’ She reflects on how stupid that sounds, and clutches at her head. _That’s the kind of thing Pod would say._

He doesn’t seem to notice. ‘Well, I won’t be the one doing the driving. Thank you, though. I will.’

‘Can I call you when you get back?’

‘You’d better. If you think you can fend off your crowds of suitors that long.’ He sounds pleased with his quip for a moment, then she hears him punch the dashboard. ‘ _Shit_. Sorry, Brienne. Foot in mouth disease. I didn’t mean – that wasn’t a reference to…’

‘I know, I know it wasn’t,’ she reassures him. ‘It’s fine. Jaime! Listen to me. It’s _fine_.’

‘I should go,’ he says, ‘before I say anything else stupid. Let you get some sleep.’

‘All right,’ she says reluctantly. ‘But we’ll talk again soon.’

‘Stay safe.’

‘You too, Jaime.’

‘Goodbye, Brienne.’


End file.
